


Regular

by Tinywriterfairy



Series: Regular-Irregular [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Attempted Kidnapping, Blood, Established Dong Si Cheng | WinWin/Nakamoto Yuta, Established Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung, Established Moon Taeil/Suh Youngho | Johnny, Found Family, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Exploitation, M/M, Mutual Pining, Queerplatonic Relationships, Transformation, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:00:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27553474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tinywriterfairy/pseuds/Tinywriterfairy
Summary: Kunhang grew up in a world where magic is real and witches are revered—only if they use traditional magic. When Kunhang blooms into something he's never heard of, he enters a world where magic is only revered if it's the regular kind. If you're Irregular? It's hell.
Relationships: Lee Taeyong/Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Qian Kun, Wong Kun Hang | Hendery/Xiao De Jun | Xiao Jun
Series: Regular-Irregular [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2014531
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20
Collections: NCT Bigbang Round 1





	Regular

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I first had the idea for this fic over a year ago, but didn't really have the chance to work on it deeply until this big bang, so thank you to the mod and to the artist who worked with me! Visually, a lot of this was inspired by the Take Off and Regular MVs. There are a few easter eggs in here for those if you want to find them! The M rating is for the same stuff as the Graphic Depictions of Violence warning; both are more precautionary than anything at this point. They mostly come into play in later chapters and I'll tag anything major in the notes preceding the chapter. I swear, a lot of this is softer than the tags might make it sound ;-; I hope you enjoy reading~

Kunhang left for school at an unspeakably early hour. He wasn’t like his witch classmates who could spell themselves to school in just a few minutes. His parents were far too busy to drive him, so the sun just barely peeked over the horizon as he trudged into the street. Xisanqi mostly consisted of tidy little imperial-style houses packed together along neat streets. Spell flags marked witch houses—family crests glowing even before the sun hit them—and even the regular houses often bore spells in the windows or walls to ward off intruders or bad weather.

By the time he reached the edges of Tsinghua, people were trickling into the street around him. Across the street, a young girl chanted until a glowing door appeared so she could step through. The university grounds held more plant life than the area near his house; trees and bushes made parts of the campus seem like a park. Kunhang slowed to a stop by one.

A red squirrel lay injured on the edge of the sidewalk, just under the branches of a willow tree. Kunhang edged closer. Blood matted the fur on the side of its head, but he couldn’t make out the injury itself. The poor thing whined. He hadn’t known squirrels could do that. His heart hurt a little; that much he was used to, but the sudden drop in his stomach was new. The squirrel whined again, wiggled around, and popped upright. It chattered at him before scampering up the tree.

How strange. Kunhang shrugged it off and continued to school. Maybe it was a sign that class would be more interesting.

***

Tsinghua’s air conditioning remained strong, thankfully, even in the heat of the day. Kunhang settled into his seat for history class.

“You all may find today’s topic repetitive, but I trust you’ll pay attention.” The teacher rapped the desk with her knuckles. “Your pop culture understanding of major historical events will not help you pass the test.”

She projected a map onto the whiteboard; rather than the standard map of China, this map marked out different witch clan bases and significant historical markers like battle sites. Several of Kunhang’s classmates groaned, but he leaned forward. He’d been waiting for this unit.

“Come on.” The teacher waved at Kunhang. “Tell me what we’re talking about today.”

“The Covenant.” He fidgeted. “It brought magic out for global recognition and regulation, with the understanding that covens govern themselves through the Elder Council.”

“Good. Who else wants to tell me what events precipitated the Covenant? No one? Very well.”

The witch students sagged as the teacher continued the lecture. They probably heard this story every week. Kunhang took careful notes. Every child knew that witches used to live in hiding around the world, that the Covenant brought them out and bought them respect, but they never really talked about what happened before that. His teacher made it sound fascinating and scary, how some governments had discovered magic and started running down witches as tools or disposing of them. How the witches fought back. How many years passed before they finally sat down and talked, ending in the Covenant. Kunhang shivered, but not because of the air conditioning. After a while, the lecture reached familiar topics and taking notes became an almost mindless task.

The thing with the squirrel this morning was weird. Had it been magic? But what spell would have such an oddly quiet effect? And who would even care to spell him? Kunhang sketched a squirrel in the corner of his notebook. The girl sitting next to him yawned, giving him a weird look out of the corner of her eye when he added the injury. It wasn’t like magic just manifested out of nowhere. Kunhang kept doodling between notes as the teacher neared the end of her lecture.

He zoomed out of class as soon as the bell rang. He waved back to his more polite classmates making their way out in a pack. It would be nice to go with them someday. If his parents would ever allow it. Though, they weren’t even waiting at home this week. He still couldn’t muster the nerve to follow the classmates, but he did take the scenic route home.

The university was—not pretty, exactly, it was a school made to be a school—but the buildings were nice enough. The residential area around it, though, Kunhang thought that must have been made for its looks. The houses didn’t climb as high as school buildings, but they spread into themselves the way no (corporate building) ever could. Sometimes he caught cats going between houses, and sometimes they even let him pet them. Not today so far, but he could hope. Kunhang ambled along home.

The pain came out of nowhere, like fire spreading out from his gut. Something stabbed through his head, too. Kunhang dropped to his knees. What was going on? He couldn’t think. He wasn’t sure he was breathing. He’d been fine this morning?

Someone stopped right in front of him, too close, feet clad in dark boots. He pushed back. The stranger gave him a manic grin. “I didn’t think I’d be so lucky when I went after the flicker this morning. Hello.”

Liquid fire ran through Kunhang, better in his gut but spreading down his arms and legs. He edged back despite it. “Are you doing this to me?”

The stranger stalked him backwards down the disturbingly empty street. “Oh, I didn’t have to do anything to you, kid. You’re blooming all on your own.”

Blooming? Kunhang doubled over as the pain in his head reached an apex. It passed through his feet and stopped. When it passed through his hands, something released with a hard clap of air. He flew back. Kunhang blinked at the sky. He felt mostly fine, just deeply achy. He sat up to find the stranger feet away and stalking toward him. Kunhang’s hands shook. What was going on?

A flash, wind on his skin with no source, and someone stood between them. Odd slits in a black t-shirt made Kunhang blink; black seemed to be the theme, coloring the new stranger’s pants, boots, and hair, too. Kunhang caught the edge of a sharp jaw before he turned away completely. “Are you ever going to give it a rest?”

This stranger seemed to radiate calm and safety. At least, he hadn’t attacked Kunhang like the other guy. Kunhang pulled himself into a crouch. The deep ache faded to his bones. He edged out of the way, to the side so he could get a better look at the proceedings.

The first stranger leaned in, body like a coiled spring. “Sure, we’ll rest when you submit.”

“Can I be honest?” Kunhang’s stranger asked with a savage grin. “I so hate to be controlled.” That flash of wind brushed his skin again as his stranger lifted off the ground. Something—two black lines appeared on the stranger’s back. As if in slow-motion, the lines expanded, stretching out from his back and folding out into impossible, metallic-looking wings. Kunhang stood close enough to count the feathers—he wasn’t going to question how metal wings had feathers. The weird slits in the stranger’s shirt made a lot more sense.

While he was processing all that, the stranger stabilized himself and kicked Kunhang’s attacker in the chest before coming to hover upright. The man stumbled back, gasping. “Ten? I could use a little help here.”

“Just a second.” A lithe little man dropped from the low roof of a nearby building. He wore black too, but he would stand out more no matter what with his gleaming silver hair. Kunhang shut his mouth. “You don’t want to take care of this yourself?”

“I”m worried about him.” The one who had called for Ten nodded at Kunhang. “I don’t know if he’s done and it isn’t safe here.”

They seemed to have a silent conversation, staring at each other while Kunhang’s attacker tried to get his breath back. Ten nodded decisively. “I’ve been craving a good workout anyway. Go on, Xiaojun.”

“Have fun!” Xiaojun pulled Kunhang up by his elbow. “It’s not safe here. Will you come with me?”

Xiaojun’s hand was warm on his skin. The stranger did something In Kunhang’s periphery. Kunhang twitched away from it. These two had to be better than someone trying to attack him, right? “I—yes, but who are you all? Who is that? What’s happening to me?”

Xiaojun opened his mouth, but a noise had them both turning. Kunhang’s attacker lunged only to be met by Ten’s fist to his nose. Ten shook out his hand. Something sparked along his fingers, as silver as his hair. Xiaojun tugged on his arm. They ran.

“I’m Xiao Dejun. You can call me Xiaojun, everyone does.” Xiaojun flashed him a smile, at odds with the tight grip on his arm and the speed at which they ran. “There’s a lot going on and I’d rather not explain while we’re running on the street. I’m taking you to our shop, where we’ll be safe. Okay?”

“Okay,” he breathed. Just then, it felt like he would agree to anything. They skidded around a corner and continued, past streets Kunhang had long since memorized but whose names now slid past him like water.

“What’s your name?”

“Wong Kunhang.” Kunhang gripped his bag tighter with the hand Xiaojun didn’t have.

Xiaojun glanced over. “Oh, you might want to know your hair is pink. I assume it wasn’t before?”

“My hair is what?!”

Xiaojun just giggled and dragged him on.

“This should be far enough.” Xiaojun tugged him into a little alley. He pulled a tiny, old-fashioned key from his pocket and pressed it against the empty wall.

“Wha—”

Xiaojun shushed him. “Kun, I found him. Let us in?”

The bricks around Xiaojun’s hand melted into an iron door. Xiaojun pocketed the key, opened the door, and pulled Kunhang through by his wrist. They walked through darkness for a breath, two, then they stepped through an archway and entered another world. At least, that was what it felt like. The vaguely circular room held tables with all kinds of objects—books, bottles, a couple of strange orbs, even a plant—situated around an ancient, twisted tree just out of the center of the room. Shelves lined the walls, in and around more little archways and doors that led to who-knew-where. A ladder led up to what looked even more shelves for books above the ceiling that covered the archways. The only truly clear space was a counter near the back, with a cash register that looked very out of place here, with a man sitting behind it poring over a book. He looked up as Xiaojun walked them both over.

The man—Kun?—came around the counter to inspect Xiaojun. “Are you okay? What happened? Where’s Ten?”

Xiaojun squirmed. “I’m fine. I left Ten to clean up. We found him—Kunhang.” Xiaojun pulled Kunhang closer. “This is Kunhang. He had just finished blooming when we got there, but one of the assholes was terrorizing him so I drop-kicked him and took Kunhang away so Ten could have some fun.”

“Hi?” Kunhang held very still.

“Hello.” Kun moved to focus on him. He looked pretty normal, with slicked-back blond hair, dark brown eyes, dark pants, and a white shirt, but then Xiaojun had looked pretty normal before wings came out of his back. His gaze was as intense as Ten’s had been. He gave a little smile. “I imagine you’re very confused.”

“So confused, you have no idea!” He deflated with the force of the words. “Or maybe you do, I shouldn’t assume. But I have no idea what’s going on.”

“Okay.” Kun laughed. “Let’s sit you down and try to work this out.”

They ushered him through one of the doors into a back room. This room looked almost completely different. Except for a couple of pictures on the walls, a rug, and a some furniture, it was bare. Kun waved them toward the seats and stepped through another door. Kunhang sat in an armchair, setting his bag by his feet. Xiaojun took the love seat across from him.

“Do you want some tea?” Kun called from what was apparently a kitchen.

“Um … yes? Thank you? I like green tea.” He tried not to stare at anything while they waited for the tea, but it was look at the pictures or look at Xiaojun. Xiaojun had put his wings away sometime after they started running, but he wasn’t any less fascinating to look at. Kunhang focused on a photo of a lake instead.

When Kun came back, he passed out cups of tea to both of them before taking the seat next to Xiaojun with his own. “So. Why don’t we start with your experience. Tell me what happened to you, and I’ll try to make it make sense.”

Kunhang took a sip of his tea. He glanced at Xiaojun. Xiaojun nodded at him encouragingly. He gripped the cup a little tighter.

“I was just walking home from school—I go to Tsinghua’s attached high school—and suddenly everything hurt. Then that guy showed up—who was he, anyway?—and he really freaked me out. He stalked me down the street, and then you showed up. The pain kept spreading, and then it reached my hands and something happened? I don’t know what, really, it felt like an explosion but there wasn’t any debris or anything.” He frowned. “There was something weird this morning, too. I thought this squirrel was injured, and I felt kind of weird, but then it just got up and ran away.”

Kun nods slowly. “Am I right in guessing that you’ve never shown signs of magic?”

Kunhang shook his head. “No one in my family is associated with magic.”

“How much do you know about it?”

“Magic?” Kunhang shrugged. “Just what they teach in school. It’s a different kind of energy that witches can guide with their will and the rest of us can’t touch. It tends to run in families, so while different cultures have different traditions, even individual families can develop variations on spells.” He fidgeted. “I’ve never heard of magic randomly onsetting with pain.”

“You wouldn’t have.” Kun set his teacup on a low table next to the love seat. “You know a lot for a non-magic user. Everything you said is true—for the rest of the world. Most people with magic always have it, or they develop it slowly as children. But you and I, and Xiaojun and the others who live here, we’re different. We’re something the rest of the world hasn’t seen, or doesn’t want to see.”

“We’re mutants,” Xiaojun whispered dramatically.

Kun cuffed him upside the head gently. “Don’t scare the poor boy. We’re not mutants.”

“What are we, then? What am I?”

They exchanged glances. “We’re not sure,” Kun said. “We don’t like the word ‘mutant,’ but we don’t have a better one. This is what we do know: there are some very few people who seem to go from having no magic to possessing a nearly unique magical talent in the space of a very few painful moments.”

“So that, back there, that was some kind of transformation?” It made sense. Kun mentioning magic had been a clue, but it hadn’t really sunk in before.

“Yes. Yours was less violent than some.” Kun gestured to Xiaojun.

“I wouldn’t call mine violent per se,” Xiaojun retorted. He turned to Kunhang. “Those wings you saw? When I bloomed they burst out of my back.”

“Bloomed?”

“That’s what we call the transformation. Because it’s nicer than “explosion.” And once it starts, it doesn’t stop until something appears—like a blooming flower.” Xiaojun grinned. “Pretty, isn’t it?”

“Well, when you put it like that … Is that why my hair is pink now?”

They nodded. “We’ve found three basic types of changes.” Kun waved at Kunhang. “Hair, like yours or Ten’s, which changes color and cannot be covered.”

“What, really?”

Kun nodded sympathetically. “You could try dyeing it, but even permanent dye won’t last more than a few weeks. The wings you’ve seen, and some of us change eye color. That’s hard to hide as well, even if you use colored contacts.”

Kun’s hair looked dyed blond, but he’d only mentioned Kunhang and Ten when talking about hair colors. And his eyes looked pretty normal. Did that mean he had wings? “We? Us? How many of ‘us’ are there?”

“Here? There were six of us—you make seven.” Kun stretched. “There are others—not many—elsewhere, but I wouldn’t have an exact count anymore.” He frowned. “Which is its own concern. At any rate, you’ll meet the others here soon.”

“But how does this even work? What are these talents? What happens now? Who was that man who attacked me?”

“Well, based on what you’ve told me, you don’t have a combative power. I would guess you’re some kind of healer.” He shrugged. “It can take time to figure out; not everyone is like Xiaojun here.” Kun ruffled the boy’s hair. Xiaojun screwed up his face, but didn’t fight it. “Everyone is different. We can’t do magic exactly like regular witches, but each of us has a unique ability that we can develop to higher extremes. As for the rest of it, that depends on you.”

“What do you mean?”

“The man who found you is part of a group of people we think are trying to ‘collect’ us for some purpose. We’re still not sure of their purpose or methods, but they’ve tried to kidnap us multiple times. Especially during blooming. They’ve found you, so they probably have a sense of who you are. We want to stop them, of course, but your safety is the most important. You can protect yourself if you learn to harness your power, and until then we can protect you.” Kun shrugged. “I said it’s up to you because it is—you could walk right out of here if you wanted, though I would urge you not to—and because I don’t know what the others are planning.”

Kunhang closed his eyes. His tea had cooled a little, but drinking it gave him something concrete to focus on. It felt like he’d walked into a dream—or a nightmare—with no way of waking up. “But why do you care?”

Before Kun could answer, several doors slammed, one after another. Ten stalked into the sitting room. “That took longer than I wanted, how far did you get?”

“You have the worst sense of timing.” Kun stood. “Are you okay? How did it go?”

Ten prowled closer. He smirked. “Who are you talking to, again? Of course I’m fine. The guy ran off before I could get him. It was all very boring.” He didn’t even look winded.

“It’s not boring, it’s dangerous.” Kun crossed to pat Ten down. “Don’t make me worry about you.”

“You worry about everything, old man.”

“We are the same age.” Kun bristled. “Stop calling me old.”

“Mmhmm.” Ten kissed Kun. “I’m fine, you can calm down.”

Kunhang’s mouth was probably open again, but this time he didn’t care so much.

“That’s Ten.” Kunhang jumped. Xiaojun had crept over to perch on Kunhang’s armchair. His eyes twinkled as he watched the two men across the room flirt. “He and Kun run the shop and take care of the rest of us. They’re the same age, but Kun was born first, so Ten likes to pretend he’s old.”

“Are they together?” The question seemed moot as the pair cuddled into the armchair Xiaojun had abandoned, but he shouldn’t assume.

Xiaojun giggled. “Yes, since way before I knew them. I’m glad you caught that. Yangyang was so surprised when he found out, but he’s also dense as hell, so.”

“Who’s Yangyang?”

“Our youngest. He was the last to join us before you.” Xiaojun wilted a bit. “You are going to join us, right?”

Even the hint of a pout on his face was truly devastating. “I—well, I hadn’t really thought that far.” He curled in on himself. What was he going to tell his parents?

“Please? I promise everyone’s great. And you’d be a lot safer here, we don’t really know how those guys are tracking any of us.” His eyes just seemed to grow bigger and bigger as he talked.

“I—”

“Xiaojun, don’t crowd him.” Kun finally pulled away from Ten. “He’s had a big day. You met briefly, but Kunhang, this is Ten. Yes, he’s my boyfriend. Ten, this is Kunhang.”

Ten nodded. “Hey. Have they scared you off yet?” He offered his hand, then seemed to realize they were too far apart and waved instead. “I promise we’re only like this on Wednesdays.”

Kunhang burst into giggles. It probably wasn’t even that funny, but something released as he laughed and laughed. The others waited for him to ride it out, though Xiaojun smiled with some amusement.

“Really, though,” Ten added once they calmed down. “We don’t want to pressure you. You could take the night here to think about it? The shop is safe and you could meet everyone.”

“I—” Kunhang let himself breathe. “I think that would be good. Do you know what time it is?”

“It’s about eight. Do you need to call your parents?”

“I—yeah, I should do that.” Kunhang patted his pockets. Somehow his backpack and cell phone had both survived the afternoon. He stepped through the door Kun had used to get to the kitchen. It was recognizably an empty kitchen, so he stopped and pulled out his phone. He tried not to grip the phone too tightly as he hit the button. It was all for nothing, anyway; the call went to voicemail. Kunhang stammered through an explanation that a friend from school had offered to help him with a project and he’d be staying out overnight. He wasn’t even sure they’d hear it, but it would be better to have a proper explanation than leave them to guess. Kunhang shoved his phone back in his pocket.

“Where are the others?” Ten was asking when he returned.

“Xuxi stayed late at the repair shop, Yangyang’s out on a job, and I think Sicheng’s still napping upstairs.” Kun noticed Kunhang hovering. “Come sit. What did your parents say?”

“Oh, I left a voicemail.” Kunhang sat. “I just said I’d be staying with a friend; I don’t think they’ll worry.” If anything they might be surprised to hear he had friends.

“Good. If you think you’re up for it, I can show you around a bit more before we have a late dinner.”

Ten shoved Kun’s shoulder. “How long are you planning to make him wait for food? I’ll take him, you go cook.”

Kun dragged Xiaojun off to the kitchen. Ten surveyed Kunhang. “You’ve had a big day already, haven’t you?”

Kunhang nodded vigorously. “I was just supposed to be going home from school and now apparently people want to kill me?”

“Oh, we don’t think they want to kill us. From what they’ve said and other bits of evidence we’ve been able to gather, they seem to want to use us for something.” Ten wrinkled his nose. “It’s very rude of them. Anyway. You would have seen the front shop very briefly, and this is basically our living room.” He waved around. “Do you want to see the shop again, or the rest of the back?”

Kunhang grabbed his bag. “The back, I guess? I didn’t examine the shop or anything but I know what it looks like.”

“Makes sense.” Ten pointed at his bag. “You can leave that here if you want, no one’s going to mess with it yet.”

“Yet?” Kunhang left it anyway; he didn’t really want to carry it around again. Ten led him through another door into what looked like a home office but containing some instruments he couldn’t make sense of.

“This is our workshop.” Ten pointed at the door across from them. “There are a couple of rooms next to each other, but the further ones have some dangerous items in there right now so this is as far as you go for now.”

“Dangerous how?”

Ten waved him away from the door. Kunhang backed up. Ten closed it and led him back toward the kitchen door and down the hall past it. “Just flammable mostly. Xuxi likes to experiment and while some of his stuff is great, sometimes it just blows up in his face.”

Kunhang scurried to keep up as Ten climbed a small, well-used wooden staircase at the back of the hall. It curved to reach the second floor, which reminded Kunhang more of the living room than the rest of the shop. A wide hallway, sparsely decorated but for a table on one side, boasted several doors on both sides and one at the very end. Ten pointed at each door as he explained.

“We all sleep up here. That’s the bathroom at the end of the hall. Our landlady lives in this building somewhere, but we can never find the door that leads to her part of it, so don’t worry about that.”

“Your landlady?”

Ten nodded. “She owns the building. She’s the one who—did Kun tell you about this?”

Kunhang shrugged.

“We live here because those assholes can’t track us here. That’s because of the spells she’s put in place here and in the surrounding area.” He waved vaguely. “We’re actually somewhere under the city, but between the wards that keep this place hidden and the wonderfully complex spell even I still don’t understand to make the door connect only to customers who truly need us or people with keys, we can’t be found. It’s why we rarely suffer attacks like the one you had today.”

“Wow. That does explain a lot.” Kunhang couldn’t remember much about wards from the classes he’d had on magic, but what did he know, really? They poked around a little more. Ten told him a few stories he thought Kun probably wouldn’t prefer he hear, but that had him laughing as they made their way back down the stairs.

“And finally, the kitchen.” Ten leaned on the door. “I’m not allowed in here very often because the old man’s convinced I’ll burn the place down.” He winked.

“Would you?”

Ten shrugged. “Probably not, but he doesn’t need to know that.”

Kunhang giggled. “Why do you call him old if you’re the same age?”

“Oh, it drives him crazy. A couple of the others have picked it up, too, which he hates even more. But I have to separate us, you see, because I’m baby and it would be a crime for anyone to mistake that.” Ten kept his face deathly serious, which only served to make Kunhang’s giggles worse.

Finally, Ten grinned. “Let’s go, then.” He pushed the door open with his back and beckoned Kunhang on. Now that he was looking properly, it was a nice kitchen. There was enough space for several more people—which he’d gathered they needed—to sit around the table in the middle of the floor and still let Kun walk behind the chairs to each counter and cabinet, all the same dark wood as the shop, to check on the food, or to watch them come in.

Kun eyed them. “What have you been corrupting him with?”

“Nothing.” They spoke in unison, which set off more giggles.

Kun just shook his head. “I see you’ve made a friend.”

Had he? That was nice. His ears felt a little warm. Kunhang took the seat Kun indicated next to Xiaojun, who smiled at him. That made his ears even warmer. Ten tugged on Kun’s ear gently and told him they’d been very well-behaved on their tour, which wasn’t technically wrong, which made Kun snort before they kissed. It was cute.

“So you said you go to Tsinghua?” Kun asked after they sat down. “Do you like it there?”

Kunhang shrugged. “It’s a very good school.” He changed the subject. Kun got up when the oven dinged and started moving dishes to the table. He set several empty places, but didn’t dish out food for them. Kunhang started eating without caring what the actual dish was beyond rice and pork and some very good spice.

The kitchen door swung open. A tall man came in, dark hair cut close to his head above. The man served himself a plate. He stopped in front of the table and cocked his head, looking at Kunhang with piercing red eyes. “Who are you?”

“I’m Kunhang. Wong Kunhang.” He swallowed. “Who are you?”

“Dong Sicheng.” Sicheng set his plate down to sit next to Kun. “Are you the new kid?”

Kunhang nodded. “I think so.”

“Kunhang is staying the night, and we’ll see where it goes from there.” Kun tapped Sicheng’s shoulder. Sicheng nodded at him.

“Well, let’s hope Xuxi and Yangyang don’t scare him off.” Sicheng nodded to Kunhang as well. “They’re chaotic but they mean well.”

Kunhang bit back a smile. “I get the sense that describes more than just those two.”

They laughed. Kun whacked Xiaojun’s hand before he could take a third serving. “Save some for those who aren’t here, they’ll be hungry enough when they get back.”

Xiaojun pouted. Kunhang looked away. He settled into the flow of the meal, as these strange people in this strange shop took him into their wings.

***

Kun wouldn’t let Kunhang help with the dishes. He sent Kunhang and Xiaojun out with instructions to settle Kunhang for the night. Kunhang followed Xiaojun upstairs.

“So there are plenty of rooms up here. The boyfriends share, and so do a couple of us,” Xiaojun waved around, “but we’ve got a guest room right by the bathroom, so you don’t have to share or worry about being interrupted tonight.” Kunhang had seen it earlier, but Ten hadn’t pointed him to any specific rooms. Xiaojun led him to the room at the end of the hall. It was almost like a hotel room, actually, with a twin bed and a small desk by the other wall. Xiaojun kept talking about where the bathroom was, and towels, and getting him pajamas to sleep in.

Kunhang sat on the bed. “Can I ask you something?”

“You just did.” Xiaojun grinned, tossed some toiletries and a set of pjs onto the bed. “But sure. Ask me anything.”

“What—” Kunhanng picked at the bedspread. “If I do stay, what happens?”

“Next?” Xiaojun leaned on the dresser and seemed to think about it. “Kun would want to figure out how your power works and train you to use it. You live with your parents, right?”

Kunhang nodded.

“So you’d probably be going to school and then coming here for a few hours, most days, since your parents would want you home.”

“Right.” He bit his lip. “It’s probably too late to worry about this, but is it very dangerous?”

Xiaojun came to sit with him. “You saw the guy today,” he said gently. “Those people don’t stop. Regular witches also don’t like us very much. So yes, this life can get dangerous. But it’s no less dangerous, and much more likely to hurt you, if you aren’t prepared. I don’t think they’ll leave you alone, so you’re faced with the choice of trying to hide on your own or fighting them.”

Kunhang turned to face him. Xiaojun looked like nothing more than one of his classmates, but he lived with this whole other world every day. “Is that what you’re doing?”

“Fighting? Partly. We refuse to be part of someone else’s plan. More than that, though, we want answers. You asked why all this? We don’t know, and it kills us too.” Xiaojun’s gaze was intense. “I want to know why wings burst from my back years ago at least as much as you want to know why you bloomed today. We won’t stop until we know.”

Something came loose somewhere inside Kunhang. He didn’t have the words to voice it, and just nodded as Xiaojun went back to talking about getting him comfortable, but he already was.

***

Taeyong sat amidst chaos as pure hell broke loose around him. More fighters than they’d expected swarmed his friends from the open warehouse door. Taeyong put a hand to his head. It came away clean, but something was making him dizzy. He tried focusing on one person. Mark—where was he? Johnny had Taeil, Jaehyun, and Doyoung safely behind one of his barriers in the corner. He used smaller ones like razors to cut at the people attacking them. Yuta dashed from person to person, encouraging the weeds peeking out from cracks in the concrete to grow into prisons. Mark was almost hidden between a group of fighters. Taeyong couldn’t count them. Mark’s wings flashed like storm clouds; Taeyong could smell the ozone that meant Mark was fighting back, but it wasn’t enough. They would hurt him.

Taeyong launched himself up to reach Mark. He reached out, clenching his hand into a fist. He hadn’t actually had to do that in years, but with the way his head pounded, the physical grip helped. He lifted his fist and some pieces of lumber lifted off the ground; when he punched, they flew at the men. The fighters stumbled away. Taeyong dragged Mark back to the group.

“I think that’s the last of them. Are you ready to leave?”

Doyoung nodded and stood with his satchel. “I don’t see anything left here. We should go—quickly.” He allowed Jaehyun to shepherd him out the smaller door near their end of the warehouse.

Taeyong waved the others ahead of him. Taeil and Yuta stuck close; once Yuta passed Taeil’s inspection, he ducked around the group to wait by the door. Johnny trailed after them. Once Taeyong pulled Mark through, Yuta grew the ivy on the building’s outer wall until it covered the door. Taeyong thanked his lucky stars Donghyuck had agreed to stay behind with Jungwoo to protect their home. He loosened his grip on Mark’s arm.

“Are you okay?” He couldn’t stop and pat Mark down for injuries. They didn’t have time. He shook with the urge anyway.

“I’m fine, hyung.” Mark folded in his wings. Taeyong hadn’t brought his out, but he’d worn clothes to accommodate them. It was a little too cold out to be wearing shirts like this comfortably anymore. He shivered. They jogged to the car. The movement did not help the dizziness, but the faster they got out of here, the faster Taeil could look at them all, so Taeyong pushed faster.

Mark pulled away from him to get in behind Johnny and Yuta. “You don’t have to worry so much.”

“Of course I do.” Taeyong pulled himself in and shut the door. “I worry about all of you; it’s my job.”

“Who worries about you, then?” Taeil reached for him. “Let me see your head.”

He remained still as Taeil worked on him. Who, indeed?

It was his job, though. Johnny shifted away from the curb, driving through the dark for home. Taeyong sagged against the car’s frame. He was too keyed-up to sleep, limbs still buzzing from the fight, but he took what rest he could as they drove. The pain in his head faded after Taeil took his hands away. Doyoung poked through his bag, muttering to himself.

“Did you find anything?” Mark asked

He grumbled. “No. They must have disposed of anything useful when they abandoned the warehouse. What I don’t understand is why they’d have people watching it.”

“Maybe they knew we would go looking.” Taeyong pressed his forehead against the window. “Or guessed, at least.”

“I sure hope not. We get in enough fights as it is, imagine how bad it’ll be if they decide to guard every place they’ve ever been on the off chance we show up looking for their dirty laundry.”

Taeyong shrugged.

“Ew.” Yuta turned in the front passenger’s seat. “You want to steal dirty laundry, Doie?”

“Would you shut up, you know what I mean.” Doyoung threw a balled-up piece of paper at him. Taeyong closed his eyes. He didn’t quite drift off as they bickered, but at least no one tried to pull him into it.

Johnny parked the car on a corner packed with other perfectly normal cars. They had to walk a few extra blocks, but it was worth it not to lose the vehicle. Taeyong split their group in two and led the first half past functional office buildings to their mostly abandoned one in the middle. He pressed his palm against the door; the wards Johnny, Doyoung, and Kun had worked up when they first moved in brushed him gently and unlocked. He held open the door as the others filed through. They had to leave this upper building mostly empty, but they had made a few changes; Johnny unlocked the second ward over the ladder to the basement after prying up a false floorboard Jungwoo had installed to cover it better.

They crept down into the tunnels one by one so as not to wake the dreamers. Mark and Yuta made for the bathrooms once they were off the ladder, while Doyoung dragged Jaehyung toward his office. Taeil was practically asleep on his feet, leaning against Johnny as they went to their room. Taeyong climbed back up. He wandered into the kitchen. If anyone found this room, they’d know people still lived here; low light from the lamps lit a stove that could use a cleaning, a functioning fridge, and fruit and bread spread across the counter. The children hadn’t picked up after dinner, either, judging by the state of the table. Taeyong cleaned it all.

He drew a glass of water. Ten would have laughed at his worry, never mind that he would have done the same for Mark. Kun would have worried even more, sent them both to bed. He leaned on the counter. How long had it been, and they still haunted him with what would never be.

“Taeyong.” Yuta padded into the kitchen, yawning. “It’s late, what are you still doing up?”

He shrugged. “Not tired.”

Yuta got his own water. He perched on the counter by Taeyong’s elbow. “You look exhausted.”

“Not that kind of tired.”

Yuta played with his glass. “It’s not about tonight, is it?”

Taeyong drank. “What do you mean?”

“You miss them.” Yuta took a sip. “I mean, we all do, but it’s not keeping the rest of them up nights. Not the way you are.”

“What’s your point?” Taeyong set his glass in the sink.

“I miss them, too. Sicheng, especially. I know it’s not the same, but I’m worried.”

Taeyong leaned on Yuta’s shoulder. “They should have contacted us months ago. I have no way of knowing what’s going on, why they aren’t talking. It’s driving me crazy.” He flicked Yuta’s arm. “It’s a little more personal for you, though. You don’t have to pretend.”

“You don’t have to pretend.” Yuta nudged Taeyong up. “I miss my boyfriend like crazy, yeah. And I’m worried, I’m not pretending not to be. But you—you walk around with this eating you up and expect us not to notice. I’m not blind, Tae.”

“What do you want me to do?” He blinked away the pressure behind his eyes. “Is it really better if I go around whining about it? Nothing will change.”

“What are you two doing?” Johnny poked his head through the doorway. He rubbed his eyes. “I know there’s more distance between the rooms up here, but you’re going to wake the kids, not to mention Taeil.”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it, your boyfriend needs his sleep.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Yuta rolled his eyes. Johnny sighed. “What’s going on?”

Yuta raised his eyebrows at Taeyong. “Taeyong can’t sleep and he thinks we haven’t noticed he’s pining.”

“Oh.” Johnny crossed the room to pull Taeyong into a bear hug. “You dumbass.”

“Hey.” Taeyong still sagged into the hug. “Why am I a dumbass?”

“You really think we couldn’t tell?”

“Who’s ‘we’?”

He felt more than saw Johnny shrug. “The three of us, Taeil, probably Doyoung and Jaehyun—the kids were probably too young when the guys had to leave to notice much—but it’s not like we stand around gossiping about it. We just noticed you were sad when they got together, and now it’s eating you alive more than anything else that you can’t see them.”

“I just want them to be okay.” He picked at Johnny’s shirt. “I know better than to want more.”

Yuta hugged him from behind. Taeyong hid his face in Johnny’s shoulder. Some kind of conversation had to be going on over his head, but he didn’t want to see it.

“They’ll be okay,” Johnny said finally. “The plan was to get in touch before now, but it was also to get in touch when there’s news. The channel was never reliable. No news could be good news. I know it’s in your nature to worry, but don’t let it drive you crazy just yet.”

“At least talk to us,” Yuta added. “We’re all worried. It’s better if we worry together.”

Taeyong hummed. They let him get away without an answer and just held him. It was warm enough that he almost thought he could sleep. Yuta petted his hair gently as he asked Johnny, “So what are you doing up?”

“I wasn’t as tired as Taeil, so I was walking around. I came up here and heard you talking.” Johnny’s arms tensed around Taeyong. Taeyong probably shouldn’t enjoy his friend being tense, but the extra pressure felt nice. “About that. Can you quit it with the boyfriend jokes? I get why you’d all think it’s funny, but Taeil won’t. We’re not going to date. We’re both fine with it, but I don’t want him thinking I’m gonna change my mind because our friends think we’re pining over each other.”

“Aren’t you? I know you’re in love him.”

“No. We know where we stand. He knows I love him, and I know how he feels about me.” Johnny lifted his arm away from Taeyong, probably to poke Yuta. “Just—let it be our thing, okay? I get that you care, but it’s between us.”

Yuta didn’t answer for a bit. “I’ll let the others know.”

“Thanks.”

Johnny changed the subject. Taeyong let the words flow over him without catching them until he was almost dozing against Johnny’s shoulder. Yuta pulled Taeyong away eventually. “Come sleep with me tonight. You’ll feel better.”

“Because you’re sure a good cuddler?” Yuta elbowed him, even though he _was_ a good cuddler. But Taeyong didn’t even need that, as he watched Yuta drift off to sleep beside him. He only needed another heartbeat nearby.


End file.
